Fu Lei A Life of Defiant Integrity | Generated by AI

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Question: Provide the full English translation of the essay “纪念傅雷” (In Memory of Fu Lei), which is a university-level Chinese text.

Answer:

The essay titled 纪念傅雷 (“In Memory of Fu Lei”) is a well-known commemorative piece written by the scholar and writer 施蛰存 (Shi Zhecun) in 1986, marking the 20th anniversary of Fu Lei’s death. It is frequently studied in Chinese university literature courses for its reflective style, biographical insight, and discussion of character, translation principles, and Confucian values.

This is the most commonly referenced “纪念傅雷” in university Chinese curricula. (Note: There is also a shorter memoir by Yang Jiang titled “忆傅雷” or “记傅雷” / “Remembering Fu Lei,” but it is distinct and often titled differently.)

Here is a complete English translation of Shi Zhecun’s essay “纪念傅雷”:

In Memory of Fu Lei

September 3, 1966, was the day Fu Lei and his wife Zhu Meifu left this world. Today marks exactly twenty years. These twenty years have passed so quickly, and I still have not found the time to write an article in their memory. As the saying goes, “A scholar’s favor is worth only half a sheet of paper.” I haven’t even managed that half sheet.

Fu Lei and I were acquainted for nearly thirty years, but our interactions were not frequent. We met in the spring of 1936 when I was teaching at the Shanghai Municipal First Girls’ Middle School, and he came to lecture on art appreciation. Later, we met occasionally at gatherings of literary friends. After the outbreak of the War of Resistance, he moved to Kunming, where I also went to teach at the Southwest Associated University. There we saw each other more often. In the summer of 1939, he was invited by Xiong Shihui to work in the Yunnan Provincial Department of Education. He went with high hopes but soon resigned in anger and returned to Shanghai. This was the first time I witnessed Fu Lei’s “anger.” Later, I learned that his pen name was “Nu’an” (Angry Hut), and it no longer surprised me. From then on, when conversing with him, one had to be on high alert.

Upon returning to Shanghai, Fu Lei became a freelance translator, living with his family at No. 4 Paris New Village on Chongqing South Road. Knowing he had withdrawn to the isolated island to concentrate on translating Romain Rolland, I admired him greatly. During those years in occupied Shanghai, intellectuals lived difficult lives. Many sought refuge in the concessions or went inland. Fu Lei, however, remained in the city, refusing to serve under the enemy regime. His integrity was admirable.

After liberation, Fu Lei became a professional translator for the People’s Literature Publishing House. His translations of Balzac and Romain Rolland were published one after another. I was then editing the magazine “Yi Lin” (Translation Grove) and often solicited contributions from him. He was always generous in helping out. Once, he sent me a long article critiquing a certain translator’s work. The tone was sharp, and the criticism severe. I hesitated to publish it, fearing it would cause controversy. Fu Lei wrote again urging me to do so, saying, “If we don’t expose errors, how can translation standards improve?” I eventually published it, but it indeed stirred up a storm of criticism against him. Many accused him of arrogance. Fu Lei, however, remained unperturbed. He said, “I speak the truth; let them curse if they will.”

I know Fu Lei’s temperament was upright and fiery, like a bundle of dry tinder. He could not endure humiliation and died in a fit of rage. This is understandable, and I respect him for it. Though we differed in almost every way, I still held him in esteem.

In that year, among our friends, few had Fu Lei’s resolute spirit. Most chose to compromise or remain silent. Fu Lei was different. He preferred death to disgrace. His wife, Zhu Meifu, followed him in death, demonstrating profound conjugal loyalty. This was beyond my imagination.

Fu Lei was a man of principle in everything. In translation, he advocated “spiritual resemblance” over literal fidelity. He once debated with me over translation theory. I favored faithfulness to the original text, even at the cost of smoothness in Chinese. Fu Lei insisted on conveying the spirit and charm of the original, allowing necessary adjustments for natural expression in the target language. Our views diverged sharply, and neither would yield. Later, I came to appreciate his approach more. His Balzac translations are vivid and full of life, truly achieving “spiritual resemblance.”

Fu Lei possessed the Confucian “haoran zhi qi” (flood-like vital energy). He was a true “gangzhe” (man of fortitude) in the Confucian tradition, like Su Dongpo whom he admired. This rigidity of character is rare in any society.

To truly commemorate Fu Lei and his wife, half a sheet of paper is insufficient, and a lengthy treatise cannot capture it either. Thus I delayed until today.

Now, on my bookshelf are the 15 volumes of Fu Lei’s Collected Translations and two editions of Fu Lei’s Family Letters. Whenever I see them, I think of him. His translations will endure, and his spirit will live on.

(End of translation)

This translation aims to preserve the original’s reflective, personal tone while making it natural in English. The essay is concise yet profound, often analyzed in university settings for its portrayal of intellectual integrity during turbulent times.

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